The Night We Met
by MishkaJokeress
Summary: Auburn is bound by a promise to become a future WWE Diva by her deceased best friend Christine. Now, after moving to Los Angeles she starts her training at Wrestling Academy. But what happens when she learns that there’s a certain Super Star that is sent to help train?
1. chapter 1

Auburn couldn't describe the amount of nervousness she had in her gut. Her bag of belongings, the only belongings she decided were too sentimental to leave behind, slung over her shoulder and her new apartment key clutched tightly in the palm of her hand. She looked down at her phone, the screen displaying a picture of a woman with long black hair and sky blue eyes and pale skin smiling up at her. Her heart aches for a moment and she blinked back tears. She sucked in a deep breath and pushed herself forward.

"Okay, Christine. Let's do this." She said allowed. Christine, her best friend of sixteen years, the girl on her phone. Auburn had lost her last year to stage 3 sarcoidosis, a disease not unlike lung cancer. Christine had been struggling all of her life with it, but at the age of 24 she had finally succumbed to it. Auburn turned her door knob, opening her apartment door and looked into the small but cute living room with a shaggy grey carpet. The living room was joined by a linoleumed dining room and kitchen as well as a hallway that led to two bedrooms, a bathroom and two closets. It was quaint, a bit like an extended stay hotel room and at just $745 a month she decided it would do for the time being.

Closing the door behind her she dropped her bag on the ground and slid down the door, her arms wrapping around her legs and pulling her knees under her chin. It all seemed overwhelming to her now. She'd moved from her small town in West Virginia to the busy city of Los Angeles. While it wasn't a hard move, it was definitely not the most ideal. But she supposed a promise was a promise. Her earthy brown hair with natural red highlights fell over her shoulder in loose, messy waves. Her heart feeling more than a little empty. Tomorrow she'd be joining the L.A. wrestling Academy to begin her training. This was Christine's dream, she wanted to be a professional wrestler, to be in the middle of the ring and hear her the crowd cheering her on. Auburn had always wanted to be a professional dancer, starting her own dance company one day and training others who had little to no means to get into an uptight dance company. She'd been in a few performances, all of which paid her a good amount of money. Still, she had to sell almost everything she owned so she could keep this promise. Her phone began to ring, the carefully soft buzzing of the ringtone filling the empty air.

"Auburn Helsic speaking," she answered, making her voice appear bright when really she felt crushed.

"Hello Ms. Helsic, I'm just calling to remind you that you'll need to bring the required clothes to training tomorrow." The almost mechanical voice greeted her.

"Right. I have everything and I'm looking forward to tomorrow." She said. It was a lie, but they didn't need to know that.

"Okay, thank you for choosing Los Angeles Wrestling Academy. We look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Have a great day." The line went dead, her phone switched back to its screen. She let out a muffled huff, pushing herself up. Thankfully her apartment came with a fridge and wasn't far from the grocery store. She grabbed her apartment key and her wallet and headed out the door.

* * *

The grocery store was filled with busy workers and anxious citizens anxious to get home. She couldn't blame them, she hated going shopping. She made it over to the frozen food section, her hands grabbing a few packages of chicken and some breakfast sandwiches. Her cart was simple, some salad, a bulk bag of rice, gravy mixture, some apples and the chicken and sandwiches. Not much, some people might find the combination odd but she once saw a video of a girl in basic training eating rice and chicken with some gravy poured over the rice. She had decided she'd do a sort of boot camp training in order to get in shape on top of the workouts the school might have had planned for her. Plus this food was pretty cheap. With her items in the cart she began to push the cart down the isle, her eyes looking at her list of songs in her phone instead of watching her surroundings. She felt the cart stop harshly. She gasped, her head shooting up and her cheeks stained pink with embarrassment. A low growl of frustration escaped the man in front of her as he glared at her with cold, blue eyes. His light brown hair seemed a bit shaggy an a little unkempt, but it was tame enough. His jaw flexed.

"I am so sorry! I wasn't paying attention," she began, hoping nothing fell out of his full cart.

"Clearly." He grumbled. Auburn blinked back her shock as annoyance began to build up. After all, she apologized and nothing fell out of the cart, yet this man still took the harsh jab at her.

"Alright well, whatever. Sorry about hitting your cart, dick." She scoffed. She may have overreacted, but rudeness was a big no-go for her. Her father always taught her to fess up to her mistakes and to be polite. However, he didn't account for her short temper. It was his turn to blink back in surprise. He stood at 6'4" at the very least, towering over her like a giant. She was only 5'5", she was sure that if he wanted to he could step on her. She pushed her cart away, heading to the nearest aisle that seemed less filled, leaving the man behind to watch her walk away. Aisle 4 seemed to be the least filled, a teenager with a pimply face checking people out slowly. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, patiently waiting for her turn. She heard an object drop behind her followed by a few short sobs. She turned, seeing a cute baby that couldn't have been more than a year old. She smiled softly, bending down to pick a small rattle up.

"Oh! Thank you so much, I swear if it's not one thing with him it's another," the mother said with a soft chuckle. Auburn smiled brightly at her, returning the rattle to the baby.

"Oh it's no problem at all, I understand." She replied, giggling as the baby cooed. Her peripheral vision caught a certain dark haired man glowering at her, watching her interaction. She turned around, her back going poker straight as she moved forward, the cashier checking out her items slowly before practically yelling out the total. It wasn't much, and it wasn't like she was embarrassed, but she found herself becoming increasingly paranoid. She quickly handed him the appropriate change and exited, not even waiting for her receipt.

Outside she was greeted by a cool breeze, making her wish she had actually worn more than a sleeved shaw. Nevertheless, she shrugged off the chill, placing in her earbuds again and switching to a better song before trailing off, leaving the store and the disheveled looking lunatic behind her.


	2. Chapter 2

The floor was hard but it was clean. She cuddled up tightly with Christine's sleep over blanket, a large printed liking of Randy Orton striking his usual "viper" pose. She'd bought it for Christine two years before she died and surprisingly it still smelled like her. She played soft music from her music, some of her favorite music from Christine's playlist. For now, The Night We Met by _Lord Huron_ was playing, and she found herself on the brink of tears. It had been a year since Christine's death but it felt like it was only yesterday that she had to organize the funeral. Her heart was still breaking. She never really had a chance to mourn, she never let herself cry either. In her mind, Christine deserved no tears, she deserved smiles. That's what she would have wanted at least. It was moments like this however that made her realize how empty the space around her was. She could feel her heart shattering in her chest, making her hiss. She needed to get out, take her mind off of things. She pushed herself off the floor, staggering slightly as she searched for her dark washed skinny jeans, and studded belt. Her knee high black socks allowed her to smoothly pull her legs in her pants. She found her white dream catcher tank top and leather jacket, sliding on a pair of black boots and headed out the door. Her car keys jingling on her hip as she made her way down the stairs, her phone clutched in her hand as she began scouring through the map of the area before settling for a nearby bar.

She made it to her white 2014 Ford Focus, settling into her eco fitted seats and revved up the engine. She pulled out carefully and turned the car out, driving forward into the busy street. Her mind raced, hoping she could get a gin and tonic, God knows she needed it. She hated being alone, and she hated feeling lost. Her legs ached, she missed her nightly stretching, she was too busy putting her bag of belongings away and making dinner to stretch. She only hoped this bar would help ease her troubles.

Dean threw a shot back, grimacing slightly at the burning tingle that fell down his throat before feeling a hush of warmth spreading throughout his body. He normally didn't go drinking on work nights but Seth and Roman had convinced him and after looking at his schedule for the next month this might have been the only time he could see them.

He felt a hard hand clasp him on the shoulder, making him grunt softly. He looked up from his shot glass, meeting the gaze of Roman.

"Bad day?" He asked, Dean sneered and took another sip of his jack and coke.

"You could say that," he answered with a shrug.

"Wanna talk about it, brother?" Seth asked, his black hair tied into a small man bun, leaving his blonde strip of hair hanging down. Dean furrowed his brows.

"What the _hell_ is that on your head?"

"Hey, don't change the subject, douche," Seth shot a look at him after chuckling, taking a sip of beer.

"I wouldn't have to if you didn't get all pretty for me," Dean teases. Roman let out a hearty chuckle before adding in.

"He has a point, bro."

"You two are just jealous of my lady killer style,"

"More like cock block style. Who would fall for that?" Dean pokes fun at him. Seth's cocky smile fell instantly before a waitress walked past them and winked at him. Seth arched his eyebrow on interest.

"I rest my case. I'll be back." Seth said, leaving his spot to chase after the waitress. Dean shook his head and Roman giggled.

"So seriously what's wrong, bro. I haven't seen you this down since Renee left."

"What are we, girls?" Dean rolled his eyes. "Look, it was just a bad day, I found out I'm supposed to be training some newbies and this chick knocked into me at the store then called me a dick." He explained in a long drawled out sigh, his Cincinnati accent slurring through some of the words.

"Oh I get it, she bruised your ego,"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Dean didn't get a response as Roman's eyes seemed to catch a lone woman walking up to the bar. Dean didn't bother with looking at first, Roman had a wife and wasn't the type to cheat but when he heard a familiar voice ordering a gin and tonic he had to look. At the end of the bar sat a quiet looking girl, her brown hair looking more red under the dim lighting of the bar. Her grey eyes outlined with sharp but subtle eye liner. She pulled out her cell phone and set it in front of her. She looked tired and...he couldn't figure the last part out.

" _No way._ " He growled, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"What?"

"That's her!"

"Haha! Really?! Go talk to her," Roman encouraged,

"Nope."

"Come on the worse thing that can happen is her telling you to fuck off,"

Dean watched as the bartender handed her drink. She smiled at the man, thanking him.

"What are you doing alone?" The bartender asked her. She took a sip from her drink and cleared her throat.

"I just moved here, I don't really know anyone yet besides my landlord. She answered. Dean felt Roman's eyes burning into the back of his head. He met his gaze with a raised brow.

" _What_?!" Dean snapped.

"Go. Talk. To. Her."

"N. O."

"Oh really? Well, welcome to Los Angeles..." the bartender welcomed, smiling flirtatiously at her. Dean felt annoyed at the sight, seeing her eyes narrow slightly. She was becoming uncomfortable.

"Auburn, and thanks." She nodded her head, taking a bigger sip of her drink.

"Auburn? That's a unique name, how's your parents come up with that?" She was about to answer him when Dean found himself calling the bartender over.

"Hey! Can we get some, like, nuts or onion rings her or something?" The bartender stood up straight, throwing a glare their way before nodding. Auburn glanced over at Dean, a blush returning on her face. She left some money on the table, getting ready to leave. Dean jumped to his feet. He caught her arm, making her look back at him, her eyes widening at his grip.

"Can you let go of me?"

"Is that anyway to thank the man who saved you from an awkward date?" He smirked at her, she cocked her head.

"What?"

"Sit with us."

"Excuse me?"

"Come on, kid. I'm sorry for earlier, just come sit with us and enjoy your drink. There won't be any funny business, my friend just doesn't like seeing people alone in the bar." Her eyes roamed over to Seth. She pointed her thumb over to him.

"He's alone, you going to invite him to?" She challenged.

"Trust me, kid. He ain't alone." He began pulling her over to their spot. Roman's eyes brightened up, smiling warmly at her.

"Hey, I'm Roman." He said, sticking his hand out. Dean watched as she took it hesitantly.

"Auburn, nice to meet you."

"Likewise." Dean grunted, grabbing her drink for her and handing it to her. She nodded her thanks at him,

"So what brings you to Los Angeles?" Roman asked, Dean remained quiet, hunching forward and staring at his glass as he listened.

"A promise," she said vaguely. His jaw flexed again.

"A promise?"

"Yeah, I couldn't really back out of it."

"Can I ask what was promised?"

Dean looked up from his glass, his eyes searching her face enough to notice the small tears forming. She took a deep breath before answering.

"I'm attending a pro-wrestling academy tomorrow,"

"Oh, so you are training to be a wrestler?"

"Yeah, But her hearts not in it. Didn't you pay attention, Ro?" Dean scoffed. Auburn flared up at him.

"What the hell are you talking about,"

"Hey, you said it yourself. You are only doing this because of a promise. Who made you promise to go to school, huh? Your mommy and daddy? I guess you know who we are, right?"

"Dean—" Roman warned only to be waved off.

"How dare you?!" She snapped, standing up and tossing her drink on Dean. Roman muttered a curse and Dean gasped, clearly taken aback by the girl's fierceness. "You know nothing about me!" She spat, turning on her heels and storming out of the bar. Dean's eyes followed her, her fists clenched tightly by her side. Guilt kneaded into his gut, he'd just ruined her night. Instead of just going after her like his conscience was telling him to, he just shrugged it off. After all, he was probably right anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

Class for her had started at 7:45 in the morning, of course she didn't go to sleep the night before. She had always had an issue with insomnia and after Christine's death it only got worse. Being pissed didn't help her case either. She had taken a shower at around five, and had breakfast thirty minutes afterwards. Sporting her tight, black and purple leggings and a dark purple dance shirt with a black sports bra and her ring boots, she planned to take some hits. She stood in the corner, watching people grapple at each other on a blue mat. She was stretching, keeping her head down. She'd already gotten into a few conversations, all of them seemed nice, though a red headed girl named Amber seemed extra nice. She had made a mental note to talk to Amber more later on during break.

She was doing calf stretches, feeling her muscles tense but give way to the pulling. It was truly reviving to her.

"Hey, that's some nice stretching you're doing." A deep voice came from overhead. She paused and glanced up to see their instructor, Bret, standing over her. She stood up immediately, smiling up at him.

"Thank you, sir."

"You ready to do some grappling?" He asked her and she grinned almost evilly. Though dancing was in her blood, she used to grapple with her father and her brother. When they were teenagers, Christine had showed her a few moves. She only hoped she could remember them all.

"Yeah, let's do this!" She began to bounce back and forth, warming her muscles up some more before hoping over to the mat. A blonde haired beauty she hadn't spoken to yet stepped up. She was thin, sporting a matching PINK sweat set and extremely tall. She stood at almost 6 feet, Auburn was sure of it. She looked up being dazzled enough to be caught off guard. She was easily tossed off the mat, grunting as she hit the floor with a hard thud.

"I thought you said you were ready?" The blonde taunted, smirking at Auburn who gave a growl in response. She staggered to her feet, stepping back onto the mat and crouching slightly. Her muscles tensed and prepared to step out of the way. The blonde lurched forward, bending to meet Auburn's height. She took the chance, charging forward and leaping over her, pushing on the blonde's head for more momentum and sending the blonde stumbling forward. There was a bunch of cheering as Auburn hit the ground in a crouch before she turned and noticed the advancing woman.

They met head on this time, colliding into one another. For being as thin as the blonde was, she was certainly heavy and almost overpowered Auburn just by simply leaning on her. Auburn watched the ground, straining to push the blonde back before she found herself off the mat. In a quick move she charged forward, crashing her shoulder into her opponents gut and reared up slightly before slamming her down on her back. The blonde woman seemed to be dazed as she groaned. Bret counted down, claiming Auburn as the winner.

Auburn helped the blonde stand, only to be pushed away and glared at. Bret clapped his hands together loudly, making Auburn jump slightly.

"Okay, everybody! Round it up, group in," he said, moving his hand in a clock wise motion above his head. A light dip in the mat rippled beside her and she looked to find a choppy headed red head beside her, smirking and sizing her up.

"What do you think is happening?" She asked, resting her elbow on Auburn's shoulder. Auburn shrugged slightly, her shoulder being weighed down.

"Eh, it's probably just another lecture or maybe he's going over the rules of break? By the way, you did amazing on the mat, Amber," Auburn said, her brows arching as she smiled at her. Though Amber was about an inch taller than her, she was also thinner with little to no muscle definition. She had to admit, she was impressed.

"Don't doubt the Irish, sister." Amber winked, pulling a fake Irish accent and started walking forward. Auburn followed closely behind her new found friend and hiding in the back.

"Alright, as you all should have noticed in today's series of paperwork, it said that out exercise sessions are often taught by another teacher, most likely a hard core trainer of the WWE itself, right? Well I think you are in for a treat. For the next month your own personal trainer is goin to be the Lunatic Fringe himself, Dean Ambrose!" Bret announced as if he were a ring-side announcer. Auburn's smile all but vanished, her milky skin paling even more as she saw a disheveled crop of brown hair falling messily over a blue eyed, 6'4" man who spotted a black wife beater and blue basket ball shorts. She swallowed back her mortification enough to slink back even more. Amber noticed, her nose crinkling in confusion.

"What's gotten into you?"

"It's him." Auburn groaned, a few fake sobs escaping and became masked by the echoing of excited whoops and cheers.

"Yeah, I know right! It's amazing,"

"No. No, you don't understand,"

"What am I not understanding here?"

"I threw my drink on him last night." She whispered into Amber's ear. Amber's jaw dropped, her head slowly turning.

"What?!" She squealed, the echo of her high pitched voice making Auburn wince as she noticed Dean's head turn towards the sound. Her eyes met his briefly, and she quickly ducked out of sight.

"Shut your mouth!" She hissed, opening her mouth to speak again when their conversation became interrupted by his gruff voice.

"Thank you, Mr. Hart for that honorable introduction. Now, before we get started on our session I'd like to do an...orientation...of sorts. I'm gonna go around the room, and ask you to tell me a bit about yourself and why you are here. Firstly, my name is Dean Ambrose, then again you all probably knew that. I came to the WWE to make something of myself, from a very young age I wanted to be a wrestler and make it big and with a lot of hard work and determination that's what I became; one of the baddest superstars of the WWE, now let's start with you." He said, pointing to the blonde that had just lost to the grappling match. Auburn noticed that she was practically pouring her breasts out for him. Rolling her eyes she decided not to listen to any of this, or at least not really.

She'd listen enough to learn everyone's names, but not their stories. Everyone had a story and no one really cared about it. She had discovered that the blonde's name was Brooke, she was evidently joining with her boyfriend in order to be the baddest power couple of the WWE universe. Dean didn't seem impressed by that answer, but he did accepted it. She noticed as the stories droned on and on he kept glancing her way and his hands got more antsy. She raised a curious brow, seeing the way he was barely able to control his attention span. It was almost cute in a way. It was Amber's turn, the crowd parted so they could see her and suddenly Auburn found herself exposed.

"Hi, I'm Amber Davies, I'm from Rhode Island. I don't know what to say, really, besides I've been a huge fan of wrestling ever since I was a little girl. My uncle was in NXT before he found out he had cancer and passed away and I really looked up to him, so I guess I'm just following in his footsteps." She said, her voice wavering at the end, becoming thicker with each word, Auburn touched her shoulder and offered her an empathetic smile.

All eyes fell on her in that moment. She blushed slightly, wishing she could sink into the darkness. She cleared her throat before gathering up the courage to speak.

"Hi everyone. I'm Auburn Helsic..." she paused for a second, her mind drawing a blank. "I'm sorry, I guess I don't have that much to say about myself," she looked down nervously, suddenly feeling overly aware of herself. She heard a cocky giggle and glared in the direction of it.

"Oh, come on Auburn. Surely you have a reason for being here? After all, you're surrounded by people who are prepared to put their blood, sweat and tears into this path that they chose. So what's your story?" Dean goaded her, mocking her slyly. He was smirking halfway at her but his eyes were filled with a raging accusation. She looked at him, not even bothering to hide the hurt she was feeling.

"Fine. I'm from a small town in West Virginia called Charles Town. It's quaint, and quiet and boring, but it's a community. A community where I and my best friend grew up together. I guess you could say she and I were theatrical people, I loved to perform, but in a more alternative way. She was the wrestling fan, like she had everyone's merchandise and she knew every move from her favorite superstars. Unfortunately she developed a lung disease when she was very, very young called Sarcoidosis. Originally the doctors thought it was lung cancer, they only gave her a month to live and that day that she was given the actual diagnosis she called me. June of last year, her diagnosis changed, but not her expiration date," she paused, taking a deep breath in to steady the shaking in her voice. She stared into Dean's intense gaze as he waited to hear the rest. If he had any sympathy for her, he didn't show it.

"Anyway, she called me the day she found out the diagnosis and asked me to come over. I did,

And I even brought her favorite Randy Orton blanket. We were watching the pay-per-view when she suddenly turned to me and started talking about how she always wanted to be a wrestler, and how she had always hoped that I would have joined her in the wrestling world as her tag team partner. I told her that I would, because for her I would have done anything. So she made me promise that even though she was dying, I had to join. She said that even though she couldn't be here to fight by my side in person, she could always be there in spirit. So I promised her. July of last year she died. After her funeral I was given a package with a pamphlet, and a congratulatory letter. She made it work, she bought a way for me into this place. I guess you could say that I'm here for a promise, a promise I couldn't get out of for a few reasons, but honestly my heart is just as into this—if not, more so—as everybody else's. I'm here to see Christine's dream through, because she deserved it."

The room was quiet, nobody made eye contact with her besides Dean, and even his gaze softened after hearing the story. Not by much, but there was some softness there. She bit the inside of her cheek, stopping the tears from wrinkling in her eyes. She could hear Amber sniffle beside her.

"Well, that's a face story if ever I've heard one," Bret broke the silence first. The room slowly melted back into a more normal flow as everyone nodded and loudly agreed. The gap closed, she sunk behind everyone. "Alright, well, it's time for their work out session. Dean, everyone, get ready to sweat!" He said cheerfully, bringing morale up as best as he could. Dean threw his head to the side, the universal sign for "this way" directing everyone to follow him. She did as she was told but dragged behind. She needed to get her mind off of things before she completely broke down.


	4. Chapter 4

She shook her pre–workout vigorously, making sure to mix it well. Her eyes gazed on the room, her mind distant as she tried her best to tear her mind away from the previous conversation. She couldn't help but feel out of place, she was already so different from the others, Christine's death only alienated her more. She downed her pre–workout, grim acing at its tangy, sweet flavor. She wasn't a big fan of sour things, that was more of Christine's forte, but she had to admit this flavor appealed to her. Ahead of her Dean did a walk around of the gym, leaving the students wide-eyed as if they'd never seen a gym before.

Auburn rolled her eyes, taking a quick swig of her pre-workout before walking over to a secluded corner of the workout, pulling out a blue gymnastics pad and standing over it with her feet planted on both sides. She took another long swig of her drink, downing half out it in one go before she stretched. She began with head rolls, feeling the heavy weight of her head roll fluidly from one side to the other, feeling the muscles pull and relax. She wasn't aware that Dean was watching her from across the room. He had dismissed the class, allowing them to do their own workouts. So far, she was the only one doing the right thing by stretching first. She moved on to shoulder rolls, loosening her rotator cuffs and making sharp eye contact with Dean. She placed her earbuds delicately in her ear, turning her iPod on. Waiting by Chris Brown started and she timed her workout with the rhythm. She flattened her back out, keeping her head down and slowly bent forward until she was able to touch the floor, her legs shoulder width apart. She felt her hamstrings straining then release with sudden relief. She touched her right foot, fully aware of Dean's eyes on her. She saw black ring shoes come into view and blinked.

"Hey, Auburn. Need any help?" Amber's sweet voice just barely broke through her music. Auburn stood up straight and smiled at her.

"Yeah, actually would you mind helping me with my splits?" She asked, Amber gave her a weird look but accepted. The two sat on the floor with Amber sitting with her legs opening only a few inches farther than her shoulders whereas Auburn was full spread save for an inch. Amber blinked and gawked at her new found friends flexibility.

"What the actual fuck?"

"I told you I was a dancer," Auburn laughed softly at Amber's reaction. Amber planted her feet on Auburn's knees and pulled at her arms. Auburn straightened her hips and allowed her groin muscles to stretch.

"Yeah, but still,"

"We'll get you to this point, too, if you want? Personally I'm just happy you came along. I was afraid sir kick ass over there was going to have to help me." She mumbled, purposefully avoiding Dean's watchful gaze. Amber snorted suddenly, making Auburn jump.

Dean watched intensely, cocking an eye brow at the startled Auburn. Huffing, he made his way over to the chest compress machine, though he preferred training in the out doors. He sat down, adjusting the weights to the appropriate number and braced himself. He hadn't stretched yet, nor had he used work out machines in a while. Normally he just drove out to the desert with two dumb bells and a weight belt and trained in the shining, golden sand. Out of his peripheral he could see Auburn and the shorter red head stand, making their way to the treadmills. Part of him wondered if she loved running as much as he did. From the looks of it, she did. His mind reflected on the night prior, when he told her to quit. He wasn't technically wrong, she had no real want to be on wrestling. He never let her tell her story. She was dedicated and loyal, selfless and cut off from the rest of the world it seemed. He was intrigued by her, he had to admit. He'd have to see the way she wrestled.

Auburn had started her pace slow and steady, slowly jogging and tuning into her music. She fought the urge to stare at Dean's perfectly toned biceps as he focused on his workout. She'd never forgive herself if he caught her staring, that would just be one more thing for him to hold over her head. She'd been jogging for ten minutes, Amber was next to her, exhausted but still pushing herself past her limit. Unlike Auburn, Amber had started her workout at full sprint. Auburn smirked slightly, turning her pace up from a 3 to a 7. Nothing she couldn't handle. At this rate her new found friend wouldn't last five minutes more of the workout. Auburn snuck her hand over and brought down her friends speed.

"Relax girl, you'll hurt yourself if you just jump into it like that. Try going slower, you'll last longer and you will work on your endurance and stamina." Auburn advised. Amber gave her an appreciative glance and continued her workout. Dean had just finished his and had decidedly taken up the treadmill beside her. Auburn glanced over at him when he hadn't started his workout. An ice cold shiver ran down her spine as she found that his blue eyes were staring straight at her. He lazily leaned to his left, looking down at her as he chewed his gum. She took an earbud out of her ear.

"Can I ask why you are staring at me?" Auburn grumbled.

"You can, doesn't mean I'm gonna answer you."

"Of course not. That would be too easy." She rolled her eyes and went to place her earbud back in to her ear only to be stopped by a moist, too hot hand. She glared up at him.

"Have a beer with me and the guys tonight." It wasn't a question. It was an order, as much as Auburn hated it when someone ordered her around she couldn't help but think about how wonderful a refreshing beer would taste. She paused before answering, mulling it over.

"Buy my beer and it's a date." She said, wincing once she realized what she said and the smirk that came from him. She wasted no time in putting the earbud back in her ear before continuing her running, hoping he'd mistake her blush for a workout flush. She'd never be that lucky though, she never was.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean had met up with her after their session was over to get her address so he could pick her up since he and the boys usually didn't meet up until later in the night. He wasn't surprised to see that she lived in an apartment, but he was surprised to see the quality of it. Normally students lived in much worse conditions, usually taking any shelter they could find at cheap price. She seemed to have more pride than that. He made his way up the stairs, hearing blaring music being muffled through the wall. He paused, listening intently. It wasn't rock or metal, nothing upbeat. More indie Irish rock and mellow. He had to admit, he was kind of digging it.

The closer he came to her apartment door, the more he realized the music was coming from her apartment. His eye brow arched in curiosity. He walked closer to the door, noticing that it was cracked open. He could see her partially zipping past it, hands full of what looked like decorations and boxes. He knocked on the door lightly, the door opening even further than what he had meant it to.

She stood on a ladder, her earthy brown hair with red highlights pulled into an elegant but messy nun on the top of her head. Her small frame clad in dark wash jeans that hugged her curves, and a tight, dark green shirt with a Celtic knot on the back of it. He would have thought it was a Shamus shirt if it hadn't bean for the small "CarbonLeaf" logo underneath it. She paused, so did he. She switched songs, a more soulful song catching him guard.

"The world was on fire and no one could save me but you.

Strange what desire will make foolish people do… "

She sang with the song, her body rocking with the slow music. He leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. She jumped off of the ladder, landing in a low, silent plié before standing up, leaning to one side then the other while extending her arm out. Here eyes were closed, Dean realized she was completely taken with the music as she turned, one leg pointed and tucked out being her. She stopped, turning towards him, eyes still closed as if she memorized the layout of her apartment. She let her hips carry her forward two steps before bowing down and lifting her leg until both legs looked like a vertical pole. She kicked out, reverse turning and leaned forward, thrusting all of her weight to her right leg while the other extended out. Her back arched, head falling back and fingers playing the air like a harp as the music sped up.

Dean could have watched her dance all day if they had the time, but he was thirsty. He cleared his throat, drawing her attention away from her peaceful world to the harsh—and now embarrassing— reality in front of her. She straightened up, her cheeks a furious red.

"Dean w—" she stopped, clamoring to pause the music. She cleared her throat and brushed a strand of hair out if her face. "What are you doing here?"

Dean gave her a quirky smirk, his eyes trailing the soft curve of her cheek. He realized he had wanted to tuck that stray strand of hair behind her ear for her. Her performance was truly breath taking for him, though he could see why her friend begged her to finish out their childhood dream. Auburn was truly a sight to behold with strong, defined legs and flexibility, balance and endurance. She'd be a legend in the ring if she worked at it.

"Enjoying the show?" His blue eyes stared at her almost hungrily when she glared at him. "Relax, princess. I'm just here to pick you up for that drink." He reassured her, holding his hands up in mock surrender. She seemed confused at first then all at once her eyes widened and her features stretched into a deep enlightenment.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Sorry about that. Give me just a second I have to get my coat." She said, walking off quickly and disappearing into her room. He glanced around her apartment, Christmas lights were strung along the ceiling, pictures of her and a woman he assumed to be Christine. She had started to hang paintings on the wall, making it her own space. Everything was clean, even through all the boxes. She came out of her room, smiling at him. She was sporting her grey pea coat roman styled mid calf high heels. His eyes met hers.

"Ready to go?" He asked her.

"Yeah." She answered, walking passed him and exiting the apartment. He followed suit, allowing her to lock her door. They made their way down in awkward silence, nothing but the soft clacking of her heels and the thuds of his boots hung in the air. When they reached his car he opened the passenger door for her.

"So that song you were dancing to, what was that?"

"Charlotte Cardin's rendition of Wicked Games. It's the piece I was working on before Christine passed,"

"Well it was beautiful."

"You think so, huh?"

"Yeah, well, it isn't my type of music. But it was pretty good." He flashed another smirk to her and she rolled her eyes and turned her head away to hide the smile that spread across her lips. And then they drove off.

The bar wasn't as busy as it was the first time she came in, but it was still busy enough. She hated busy, but also enjoyed it. Dean lead their way to the bar, pulling her stool out for her while he sat next to his friend Roman. Roman smiled widely at her, the crinkles next to his eyes becoming more defined. His long, ebony hair was pulled into a man bun and he wore a simple teal T-shirt and jeans. Seth quickly slid next to her, striking a silly pose in an attempt to seem charming.

"Hey, beautiful. Come here often?" He asked. Auburn arched an eye brow in amusement.

"Hey, Seth. C'mon man, you're scaring her." Roman said, making Seth's ever charming smile drop.

"How you guys doing? What happened tonight?" Dean asked after raising two fingers to the bartender. The trio began catching up, talking about what wrestlers were doing what and gossiping about which Diva said what. Dean soaked it up like a sponge but still remained stoic. Auburn listened in, desperately trying to follow with what they were saying. She failed, giving up about half way through and decided to just drink her beer. She was silent, letting them catch up as she glanced the room, sweeping her eyes over the people's faces. She'd never felt so out of place before now. She was used to walking into a room and everyone knowing who she was. Here she felt like just a regular stranger.

"So Auburn, Dean tells us that you were studying to be a dancer before you joined wrestling?" Roman asked, trying to pull her into the conversation. She turned her attention to them, smiling softly.

"Yeah, I was in my third semester before, well you know." She answered proudly, the slightest hint of sadness tipping her words.

"You must have some moves, huh?" Seth winked playfully at her. She scoffed at him and chuckled at him.

"I don't know about that…" she blushed deeply.

"Why don't you show us some moves?" Dean teased, looking into her eyes intensely. A chill ran down her spine, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. She inwardly cursed him out for making her blush so easily.

"Here?" She stammered, her brows drawing together in concern.

"Yeah, come on. We really wanna see you get down," Roman wiggled his shoulders. She thought that was odd for a man of his height and build, but in a way it was kind of cute.

"Unless you are scared?" Dean challenged, earning a glare from her. Seth and Roman exchanged a quick glance, watching as the two kept eye contact. Her jaw went slack slightly as she angrily thought it over, she hated being put on the spot. She looked back at him with a devilish grin, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Dance with me." She said. It wasn't a request, Dean realized as he fought back surprise and instead raised his brow in intrigue. She was smart for switching the playing card. He looked over at the boys then nodded gruffly. His fingers twitched slightly at the thought of getting to touch her. He saw her taking off her coat and handing the bartender her iPod and whispering for him to play a certain song. Dean cocked his head to the side, taking a sip of his beverage before shrugging his leather jacket off.

She had butterflies rustling in her stomach, the thought of Dean's hands on her body felt forbidden to her yet almost right. She wanted to shut him up, make him pay for embarrassing her in front of the boys bot once but twice. If he wanted a dance he would have a dance. She'd make it sensual but teasing and tasteful, enough to shut him up but make her look like a lady. She wanted to show him her talent and satiate that curiosity. With any luck he'd never ask her again. She let out a calming exhale, steeling her nerves. She was about to dance with Dean Ambrose.


	6. Chapter 6

**"Every little thing. I remember every little thing. The high, the hurt, the shine, the sting of every little thing." — Carly Pearce**

The bar was quiet, the dance floor now barren of other dancing bodies. Auburn had shed her jacket, shoes and socks. The floor was cold to the touch, but welcome to her senses. It grounded her in a way, calming her anxious nerves. She faced the bartender while Dean stood at the other side of the dance floor, staring intensely at her. She did her best to hide the blush that rose to tint her cheeks and the rush if adrenaline that thrummed in her veins. She looked up at the bartender, giving him a small nod. Carly Pearce's _Every Little Thing_ began to spill out of the speakers. She began her dance with a slow saunter, her feet matching with the beat of the music. Her hips swayed slightly, sensually until the sound of the lazy guitar strums. She had just reached Dean and spun around, grabbing his anxious hands and pressed them further into her waist. He seemed to have anticipated her move. They swayed left then right before Dean spun her to face him.

She allowed herself to fall into him, keeping their gazes locked as she began to arch her back, curling her fingers in a small cue to follow her. Her left leg bent behind her, giving her support against her own bodyweight as her right leg extended between his legs as he bent with her. Her toes pointed elegantly, her hips pressing into Dean's as he held her close. She could feel the heat of him through her close, her skin felt like it was on fire. Her right leg slowly recoiled, her foot trailing up the back of his leg, her hands cupping the back of his neck. He brought them up quickly, their foreheads meeting. His eyes traced down to her lips which were mere centimeters from his. She could hear a low growl as her knee rubbed against his mid thigh. Her right leg stepped out suddenly, her other foot dragging behind her as she turned, bringing her left leg up and stepped quickly, circling a confused looking Dean. His gaze followed her.

He should have felt out of place, but somehow he knew how to react to her. As she round him he gripped her wrist, spinning her around and catching her as she fell back. Her hands cupped his cheeks tenderly, her lips brushing over his. Their breathing hitched, his stomach flipped in hunger, craving her full lips on his. He trailed his hands down her leg, cupping the back of her thigh as he picked her up and spun her around. She landed safely on the ground, masking her surprise by hooking her right leg around his waist, her back pressed against his chest. She pliéd, leaning to the left lazily while Dean held his arms out as if to catch her. She rolled her body up until she stood straight, fan kicking over his head with room to spare before turning and running a few steps.

Dean watched as she leaped into the air, her back arching, her pointed toes practically touching her head and her arms out like a 't'. She looked so elegant, her moves like water. She appeared airless on the dance floor, he had never been happier to have been left behind than in that moment. He ran after her, stopping to spread his legs as she fell flat on the floor and pushed herself back. He bent down to grab her hand, flipping her onto her back. He grabbed her other hand as she crossed her arms in front if her and pulled her up. He caught her before she fell backwards, picking her up in his arms bridal style and dipped her carefully. Her fingers laced a crown behind his neck, she slowly looked up at him, his head cocking slightly as he gazed into her eyes. They were so close now, she could feel his breath tickling her lips and his stubble gently scraping her chin. It was her turn to gaze at his mouth and how she wished she could feel his plump, pink lips on hers. A sudden fire hit desire swept through her to her core, her knees felt weak as the song came to a close and Dean reluctantly lowered her to her feet. His hands still gripped her at the waist. She smiled wryly at him, her eyes blazing with lust.

"And here I thought you wouldn't be man enough to finish the song," she teased him before pulling back and brushing past him. He felt like he was flying, his body swooning as he stared after her. His gaze turned into a hungry glare and he chewed the inside of his cheek as he sauntered forward. She was teasing him, he understood that and he enjoyed it thoroughly. He was trying to shake the way her hips had pressed into his during the dance, the sheer intimacy enough to scare him and reel him in all at once. He strutted over, almost stalking her like how a predator stalks its prey. He'd made up his mind that she'd becoming his obsession until he had her as his. No woman had ever dared to hex him like she just had, if hadn't known better he would have thought she was a witch.

He arrived at the bar, calking out for the bartender and ordering a shot if whiskey. No doubt he needed the shot to calm his nerves. Auburn refused to look him in the eyes as she downed her drink greedily.

"Wow, you weren't kidding when you said you were a dancer," Roman complimented approvingly. Dean downed his shot and listened into the conversation.

"Yep, I'd been dancing since I was little," she smiled warmly at Roman. Seth wiggled his eye brows, sliding next to her.

"So, ah, when do you think you can teach me some of your _moves_?" He asked, about to wrap his arm around her before Dean roughly swatted it away, shooting him a warning glare. Seth furrowed his dark brows.

"Well, uh…" she trailed off, feeling more than slightly suffocated by Seth's advances. She heard a shift on the other side of her and then felt the radiating heat of Dean. His chest and belly pressing against her back. A deep rumble vibrated from him.

"It's getting late, Auburn. We have class tomorrow, I'd hate for you to be late." The baritone in his tone caught her attention, warning her of its intensity. She nodded, not wanting to argue with him. She stood up, said her goodbyes and walked out the door with Dean trailing behind her. She paused at the door, turning around and pressing her palm into the center of his chest. Dean raised an eye brow at her, smirking cockily. "What? Couldn't wait to get your hands on me again?"

"Don't flatter yourself. What happened in there?" She asked, clearly annoyed with him. Dean shrugged, flashing his signature slanted smile, his brown hair disheveled and falling into his face.

"Don't know."

"Don't know? Dean come on, be a man and act your age." Auburn snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. Dean's blue eyes flashed dangerously.

"Oh I'm plenty of a man, sweetheart. I'm probably more of a man than you can handle, unless you care to convince me otherwise?" He offered, lips pursing. She wrinkled her nose in disgust, pushing him away.

"UGH! Incorrigible!" She exclaimed throwing her hands up in the air and storming off.

"HEY!" Dean called after her, his voice becoming a raspy yell. "Where you goin'?"

"Where the hell do you think?!" She yelled back, waving for a taxi and practically jumping in. As the door slammed closed and her address left her lips she slumped back. Her bottom lip trembling, confusion over ridding the ache that set in her heart. What happened to set him off? Did she do something wrong? They had finally gotten along. Her mind flashed back the aching pressure that swelled between her hips when their bodies were pressed together and the tingling sensation if his hot, moist breath on her skin. She'd never felt that connection, that want, for anyone. Now that she had, she wasn't sure if she could stay away even though she wanted to. After tonight she wasn't sure if she wanted to kiss Dean or punch him.


	7. Chapter 7

Should he go to her?

Should he just let her go?

Questions shot off the walls of his mind, racking his brain as he paced in the alleyway after having a row with a few trashcans in a frustrated fit. She'd felt so soft, so right in his arms but of course he had to fuck it all up. He'd never really been the jealous type, he'd always prided himself on knowing when to let go and when to walk away. Only this time she had come into his life, colliding into him like a taxi cab and then telling him off for being blind. She had spunk, something not many people had. She had fight. He admired that almost more than anything in the world.

His past wasn't much of a secret, lord knows every Wikipedia website displayed all of his dirty laundry out for the world to see. He couldn't say he had a clean wrestling record either, hell everything about him was down right dirty. He was so impure and she was so…

His fingers raked through his brown hair, disheveling it further and causing some of it to fall in his face. He licked his lips quickly, tongue darting out like a snake as his bottom lip curled in, leaving his mouth agape. He panted, shoulders heaving as he fell on his rear, elbows propping up on his bent knees. His blue eyes searching the filthy, garbage ridden alleyway. In front of him, spray painted on the brick wall of the neighboring building, all in white, was a dancer. Her right leg all the way up in the air, her foot pointed towards the sky and her back arched almost unnaturally with her hair and arms hanging limply but elegantly I'm the air.

"Unbelievable." He scoffed, his stubble surrounded lips curling in an exasperated smile. He rested his head on the brick wall behind him. He could hear the racket from the bar, music and chatter blaring through the air. He was being surrounded by her; her scent, her touch, her image. Everything. His head swam as madness erupted, something snapping in his asylum mind. He'd been behind those bars before clad in his own personal hug–me–self jacket. He wasn't known as the Lunatic Fringe for no reason, after all. He pushed himself off the ground, his fingers twitching and fiddling with the hem of his jacket sleeve as he made his way to the end of the alleyway, stopping and hunching his shoulders. He looked left and right before turning in the direction of her home. He'd walked farther than this, he decided. He was going to tell her off, he told himself it couldn't wait.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, easily ignoring the ringing of his phone. The voices were talking, telling him to sick her down and show her how crazy he could be. How crazy she made him be. It was wild! He'd barely even known her for two days but he couldn't help but feel drawn to her. There was something about her, something he hadn't had in a while…

"Dean? Dean!" Seth called out, Roman yipping in the background. Dean waved them off, not bothered by their confused stares. He could care less about drinking, he'd just wanted to see how she interacted with his group, his family. He never really had a family. Or, at least not a very good family. He had to break it to her, had to tell her it would never work. She wasn't broken and he— well he was shattered.

She had already shed her clothes as soon as she walked in the door. Her eyes wet with tears, the tops of her legs riddled with small, angry scars. Some newer than most. All caused by her simple addiction. She had started not long after Christine was hospitalized, her life had gone down the drain rather quickly. Too quickly for her liking. She let her long hair down, starting her shower and stepping in, welcoming the cold water as it beat down on her, washing the smell of cigarettes and him away. Not that she really wanted his scent to leave her just yet, she hadn't had a relationship in a while, let alone sex. She sank down onto the tub floor, her arms hugging her knees to her chest tightly. She looked at her Irish Tree shower curtain. The sound of the water against the curtain reminding her of the rain as it hit the hospital window as she sat with Christine, stroking her hair and telling her a medieval story.

 _"She sat in a golden gown, dressed for love and owned by vow." She began, running her fingers softly through Christine's soft hair, glancing over her half sleeping form. The monitors beeped loudly. "the breeze swept her hair as the dragon met her stare. 'You are mine, promised by your Knight. You are mine!'" Auburn watched the saline drip into her iv drop line. Her heart breaking as she watched Christine's far away gaze slowly becoming covered by heavy lids. She licked her lips, trying to distract herself from the dark thoughts that crept up on her._ _"She clutched her robe to her chest, tears disguised by fire in her eyes. The Dragon watched her dark resolve, bowed its head and spoke to her, spoke these words: 'Come now, we will fly. As you will it, your Knight will die.' She shook her head and turned away. 'He shall not suffer like I, this day—'"_ _"My love does stay." Christine's raspy, chocked voice breathed out. She gave a single, weak chuckle and Auburn's fingers faltered._ _"What?"_ _"You could have done better than retelling me a story that was written to be a song," Christine smiled, her eyes closing, her lids red and dark. Auburn returned her weak smile, rolling her eyes._ _"I thought it was your favorite?"_ _"Well yeah, when Sharm sings it. But, hey. You did way better than my mom, haha." She tried joking before a harsh cough took her. Auburn sat her up, rubbing her back and doing her best to disguise her heartbroken features. She never wanted this day to come. She was terrified of it. Her hands trembled violently, seeing her friends skin pale and the heart monitor begin to squeal in warning. Something was wrong. Christine gasped, hungry for air and unable to relinquish that need. Auburn leapt into action, flinging the door open._ _"I need a doctor! She can't breathe!" She cried out, seeing a few nurses running at her with a doctor pushing passed her. She was ushered out, listening to the panicked barks as they rushed to save her friends life._

She didn't even feel the bite of the blade as it sunk into the soft, welcoming flesh of her thigh. Blood trickled down, becoming diluted by the now hot water. She didn't hear see the amount of scars she was forcing on herself as she cut through previous scars, her emotions numbed as she became lost in her own world. It wasn't long before she sat in a puddle of her own blood. She was only pulled out of her daze by the sound of knocking. She shook her head, blinking out of her flashback and stated down at her leg, hissing a curse. She stood carefully, inwardly counting the nine slashes going down the inside of her thigh. She hid her blade next to her shaving razors and climbed out, gripping a black, dry wash cloth and pressed it firmly to her cuts. Blood oozed, soaking the fabric. The knocks continued.

"J–just a minute!" She called out, wrapping herself in a towel after shutting her water off. She ran into her room, pressing some gauze and a wrapped her leg sloppily. It would have to do until she could get rid of her company. She threw on some loose sweat pants and a quick sports bra and black crop top. She threw her hair up in a messy bun, intent on finishing her shower as soon as she was able to.

She opened the door, seeing a moppy headed Dean glowering at her through dark, wet strands of hair. One arm propping himself up on the door frame, one leg bouncing almost violently, making his body shake. He pursed his lips, beginning to angrily pant. She raised her eyebrow at him, not sure if she should just shut the door in his face or welcome him in. She jumped as he stood up almost straight in a quick, fluid move.

"You. Who the do you think you are?" He growled, his deep voice becoming gravelly. She took a step back.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You think you can just stomp on into my life, yell at me, throw drinks in my face, dance with me and then leave me hanging? You think you can just get in my head and just screw with me? Make your mark?" He rambled on, pushing his way into her apartment and tapping his temple with his finger. She shook her head, completely lost. She began to feel warm, sticky liquid running down her leg and swallowed nervously.

"Dean, what are you talking—" she was cut off abruptly by his finger smashing into her lips.

"Shshshsh," he quickly hushed her. She felt her pants leg sticking to her. "It's not going to work, do you understand me?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever. Can you excuse me, please?" She ran to her bathroom, leaving little foot prints behind. Dean stared down at them, his head cocking to the side. Was that blood? He shut the door, slowly making his way to her bathroom. He could hear her cursing loudly. For a moment, hearing her flustered was almost worth the walk in the rain.

"Dean?" She called out, sounding completely mortified.

"What?"

"I hate to ask this, but I really need another pair if pants. They are in my room, in the bottom drawer of my dresser. Just get me a pair please?"

Dean's ears perked, a smirk spreading on his face. He hadn't even kissed her yet and she was already telling him to go into her room. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"What's in it for me?"

"Dean, please!" She groaned loudly. He chuckled to himself, clearly amused. He assumed she had just started her cycle, not really caring or wanting to bug her about it. He did as she asked, walking into her room and shuffled through her drawer. For a girl she didn't really have much. He settled for some shorts, grabbing her a pair of pink, silky and laced up underwear as well, fingering she probably needed a new pair. He walked over to the bathroom, knocking once and handing her the clothes. She thanked him softly through the crack in the door. He turned, giving her privacy which she was thankful for. She had finally bandaged her cuts up correctly, though they were deeper than her liking. She sighed, grimacing at the thought of him rummaging through her underwear drawer and cringed even harder once she saw her dance shorts. He'd see her bandage. She sighed heavily, groaning at her luck before discarding her dirtied clothes in the hamper after getting dressed. She met his shocked gaze, his frantic and wild eyes dulling to blue orbs of concern. He got closer to her, eyeing her carefully. He'd seen this before, he knew what happened. There was too much blood leaking through the gauze and bandage for him to believe that it was just a shaving incident. That, plus the scars.

"Yes, Dean? What did you want?" She murmured impatiently, her hands fidgeting over her exposed thighs. He stopped inches from her, looking around her apartment before glancing back at her.

"I'm staying here tonight." He said simply, as if it were a fact. She gave him and incredulous look.

"Excuse me? Who the hell are you to just invite yourself into my apartment?"

"It's raining. You wouldn't really throw me out in the rain, would you?"

"I mean you walking over here in it just fine…" she murmured. Dean feigned offense, and nestled onto her small sofa.

"Night." He said, stretching out. She watched him, amazed at his boldness before turning and gathering some supplies for him. She couldn't have him stinking her apartment up. She looked down, glaring down at the bloody foot prints that rested on the sofa and decided she'd have to tackle them first. This was going to be a rough night.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean's blue eyes were closed. The back of his forearm draped leisurely over his eyes as if fighting the light from the lamps. She had put on soft music from **Christine's Playlist** and set the volume on low so he could sleep. She scrubbed roughly at the carpet, finally managing to get the last of the blood out of the carpet. Her thigh hurt, blood soaking through the bandage again. Her thighs rubbing together must have removed whatever blood that was clotting at the top. She muffled a sharp hiss as she carefully made her way to her bathroom and peeling the sticky, hot bandage off of her. She did her best to keep quiet as she collected the supplies she needed to clean the wounds, only drop the bottle of peroxide on the floor. She hissed a curse, laying down her things.

"Jeez, kid. Could you be any louder?" She jumped at the sound of Dean's voice. He stood in the doorway, shoulder pressed tightly to the frame as he leaned on it. His black wife beater and jeans only promoting the bulges of muscles on his legs and arms. His messy hair and husky, sleep-filled voice causing her stomach to swirl with desire.

"Didn't anyone teach you to knock?" She shit back sarcastically once she collected her nerves. He pushed himself to stand up straight, stepping to her and crouching down.

"Here, let me see," he said flatly. Gently swatting her hands away he repositioned her leg, hand cupping the back of her thigh, his index finger grazing the soft curve of the bottom of her rear. He glanced up at her for a second, watching her as her breath hitched and cheeks reddened. His touch was white hot on her flesh, burning the spots where his feather light fingertips brushed. A shiver ran down her spine. He dabbed some cotton swabs over the cuts, dripping some peroxide into the puffy, inflamed skin. Her back arched slightly, spine stiffening as he leaned in to inspect the damage.

"Well, what's the diagnosis?" Auburn attempted to joke. Dean licked his lips, glancing up at her flustered state.

"Pretty deep." His fingertips grazed over some of her scars, tracing their overlapping lines, unconscious of how far up his fingers actually climbed, or how close he was to—

"Dean." Her hand flew to his shoulder, his skin tingling at her touch. She felt rock hard muscle under smooth, warm skin. He eyed her curiously, his hands continuing their previous work by placing new gauze over her cuts and wrapping her up tightly, but not too tightly, before his hands rested on her hips. The song in the background began to blur in a murmured haze. They could hear their breaths, their hearts pounding loudly in their heads. Their foreheads met, their nose tips touched. Their lips hovered within an inch from each other. Dean stared at her, though her eyes were closed. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to ask her but he couldn't find the words. He didn't want to ruin the moment between them, any chance of claiming her in this moment was just too important for him. Her fingers pushed through the soft tangles of his hair before lacing a crown at the back of his head. His fingertips dug into her love handles with an almost bruising grip. They gave each other a few mock kisses, their lips merely brushing, coaxing Dean closer to madness with each dip of the head.

Sweet bliss finally claimed them as his mouth found hers. Teeth clashed and tongues danced as he explored all the treasures that her mouth held for him. She groaned hungrily into his mouth, letting out a surprised but muffled yip as he picked her up by her waist. Her butt rested on his pelvis, legs wrapping around his waist tightly while his hands cupped her under her bottom so as to support her. They blindly made their way to her bedroom, kicking open the door with a soft slam.

She felt the softness of her mattress under her, baring their weight as he pinned her to the bed. They broke their passionate kiss, breaching for air. Her mind was foggy, her eyes hazed over with desire whereas Dean's was glossed over with pure carnal desire. He reared back onto his knees, practically tearing his shirt off, revealing small, dark curls of chest hair and hard toned muscles beneath. She bit her bottom lip roughly before he was on her again, this time tickling her neck with the stubble on his chin as he buried himself in the curve of her neck, breathing in her scent. He kissed her softly at first before opening his mouth and placing soft, wet nibbles over her flesh. She writhed beneath him, her fingers tracing his sides, hips bucking softly against his in need. His tongue lapping over the sensitive areas where he nibbled her neck made her skin tingle.

She gasped as he made his way back up her neck, her head turning to catch his lips. He ground softly into her, jeans rubbing against the soft fabric of her dance shorts. She could feel his ever hardening member pressing against her wet heat. She was about to dip her hands down to help free his beast, abandoning the alarming thought of handing over her virginity to a notorious man whore like Dean Ambrose in a vulnerable moment when she heard a phone's piercing ring. It wasn't hers, no one ever really bothered to call her.

"Shit!" Dean growled, brushing his lips over hers for a split second before claiming them again in a quick peck. He reared back on his knees, falling over slightly but catching himself with a sturdy leg. He opened his phone, panting heavily as he answered. Apparently it was important because he had left her room, which was fine. It gave Auburn a moment to think clearly and shake the wanton urges away from her. She sighed, catching her breath before looking at the clock, it was past three A.M.

Dean had already been on the phone on the phone for about ten minutes, arguing with what she could only presume to be his bosses. She tiptoed out to the living room, watching the scene before her as he paced. His hand on his hip, he paused when he saw her.

"I'm just gonna go to bed, ok? Sweet dreams, Dean. I'll see you tomorrow." She whispered, his eyes flashing from frustration to anger, though she didn't think it was directed at her. She sighed, not hearing his pleas through her thoughts. She shut her bedroom door, welcoming the darkness and curling up in her bed.

Dean gave a frustrated huff, slumping on the sofa and pressing the _End_ button on his phone, hanging up in midsentence. Seth's problems hadn't been worth losing that moment with her. It wasn't worth the aggravation or the physical pain. He ran his hands through his hair before leaning back and closing his eyes. He thought of the dark marks he'd left over her skin, a sign that he was there. Surely they were enough to keep Seth's attention off of her without him having to say anything. He smiled at the thought, willing the day to come soon.

Morning had come too soon for her, she realized as the alarm blared. It was six thirty, the sky was still a dark blue. Her fingers danced along her neck as she massaged her muscles, throwing her legs off the side of the bed. She let out a groan, opening the door and staggering out the door. Dean was awake, stepping out of the bathroom with wet hair and a towel wrapped around his waist. Her eyes widened, cheeks reddening as flashbacks of the night before circling through her mind. She averted her eyes, clearing her throat as she made her way passed him.

"Good morning, sweet cheeks." Dean greeted, winking at her with a snug smile. She kept her mouth closed, shutting the door and locking it behind her before she dragged herself into her daily routine. Her mind swam with thoughts of Dean and their kiss. Was it real? Of course it was real, but was it _real_? Were there feelings behind it or was it just because a lack of physical content and the effectiveness of alcohol? She wasn't too sure anymore, from the look in his eyes she wasn't sure if he didn't just see her as a piece of ass, either. She was mad at herself, almost giving her virginity up in a moment of weakness was a new low for her. Christine would be disappointed.

She finished her routine, cleaning out the sink after brushing her teeth and opening the door. She opened the door, stepping out only to be pulled into a minty, smooth kiss. Her gray eyes began to disappear behind heavy lids, her hand sliding up his chest until her senses returned to her. She pressed her palm into his chest, pushing him back softly. He broke the kiss and looked at her with confused eyes. The feel of his lips lingered and she bit back a moan in protest.

"Dean, look. About last night…" she began, not sure how to put her words.

"What about it?" Dean stepped back, a heavy feeling sinking into his gut.

"Well, it's not like I didn't love it because it was just– _wow_ – but I don't think it can happen again." She said, trying to be as soft with her words as possible. Dean's eyes narrowed, his tongue licking the inside of his cheek and his leg beginning to bounce. Anger boiled in his veins, her rejection leaving a foul taste in his mouth.

"What are you saying? What, last night was a mistake?"

"No! It's just that—" She tried to defend herself only to be cut off. He shook his head, flinging his log hair out of his face and held up his hands in mock surrender, stepping back heavily. Her heart sank, guilt stinging her conscious.

"Hey, don't worry about it. I get it. Won't happen again." Dean turned his back on her, hands shaking from fury. He should have known that this would happen. He was a fool to think that something as pure as her could ever happen in his life. He hurriedly dressed, ignoring her protests as he left in a fit of embarrassed rage. Auburn's shoulders slunk forward in defeat, her palms rubbing at her eyes in frustration. The perfect beginning to a horrible day. She wasn't so sure that she even wanted to step foot in class.

With a heavy sigh she pushed herself to get dressed, her feet dragging. She wasn't looking forward to finding out the rest of the nights events.


End file.
